Massachusetts - Day 27 - car repair and countryside

Sippewissett Campground

Thursday, 27 September 2018

today's route

I’ve been worried for some time now about my water pump – right from the beginning it’s made weird noises when I use it, but lately it’s sounded worse and worse, so now I’m afraid to use it.  This has been inconvenient because it means I can spend the night only in a place where I can hook up to water, which is limiting.

I did a little online research on user ratings for RV repair places in the general vicinity and found one not too far away with a good reputation.  I made an appointment for this morning at 10:00, meaning I needed to leave here by about 8:00 in case there was trouble on the highway.

It was Bradford RV in Brockton; I got there about 9:15 and they took me right away, and Mark the service guy was great.  It took us a while to find the pump, which turned out to be inside under the rear bench seat by the table.  I’d turn on the pump and we'd follow the sound, which still sounded pretty bad.  Once Mark finally found it he figured out right away that the problem was it wasn’t screwed down tight and was rattling and moving around.  He tightened all the screws and, though it still made noise, he said that’s a totally normal water pump sound.  So now I have a functioning water pump and I didn’t even have to buy one.

I had some other little chores and questions for him, and he took care of everything while telling me that he loves old cars and listens only to music from the 50s and early 60s and his daughter’s favorite song is the Beep Beep song.  I said, do you mean the one about the Cadillac?  And the Volkswagen?  And he said, no it was a Nash Rambler.  And I suddenly started spouting off, “A little Nash Rambler was following me about one-third my size.”  Nutty what sticks in your brain.  I haven’t heard that song in decades.

Mark also told me he’s had my same problem with the Sagamore Bridge and he too drives straddling the lane line and doesn’t worry about the other cars.  He pointed out that one of my curb-contacts earned me a serious gouge out of my right rear tire (not to mention crimping in the end of the exhaust pipe).  He thought I’d probably need to replace it and recommended a local tire company.  So off I went.

The Bennett Tire Company is a family business that caters to tractor-trailers and other big rigs.  The boss took a good look at my tire and said I’d gotten lucky and there was no cord showing, so I could replace it but it’d just be for my peace of mind because he didn’t think I needed to.  He did say I should be rotating them every 6,000 miles or so, and since I’m now nearly at 18,000 miles and haven’t rotated them once, and anyway he was saving me the money of a new tire, I said sure go for it.

I was surprised they didn’t make the dogs and me get out, but they didn’t put us on a lift, just used big jacks.  Gracie didn’t like it when they started moving the RV up and down, but I stayed with her and she managed to live through it.  Dr. Christine Blasey Ford was testifying, which didn’t help my mood any, listening to that poor woman reliving that situation for a national audience.  And remembering my own somewhat similar event which I don’t think I ever talked about much.  I guess that means it didn’t happen, according to our president.  Sorry to inject politics.  The whole thing has left me with a queasy feeling.

So anyway, I found good people to help me and I now have a functioning water pump and safe tires, and it cost me only $160 total.

Those businesses are on Route 28 just south of Randolph, and it’s the same highway number I drive on every time I come and go from the campground.  I’ve wondered since I went to Randolph whether they’re connected, but it’s hard to trace the connection on either of the maps I have.  But I decided to try to follow the road itself this afternoon.

And sure enough, they are connected.  I drove through some pretty, rural countryside with not many towns along the way, for some reason.

I crossed over the Bourne Bridge, marginally better than the other, but again I straddled the lane line like Mark, reminding myself that it was a short bridge and the other drivers could go around me all they liked on the other side.  Both bridges are attractive, Art Deco type bridges, but as far as I’m concerned they need to be redesigned.  Whoever thought up those seriously high curbs oughta have to drive it himself, with something besides a Model T.